


Surprise

by Kemmasandi



Series: In Which Old Friends Get Up To Dodgy Tricks [8]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Ficlet, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-05
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-09-12 10:42:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16871455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kemmasandi/pseuds/Kemmasandi
Summary: In which old friends come to terms with all the wild monkey fragging they just did.





	Surprise

“Well.”

Optimus shifted his gaze away from the ceiling. Ratchet lay beside him, and the sight of him there was still enough to send a thrill of excitement through his exhausted circuits.

“That was…” the medic trailed off, staring into the middle distance.

“Interesting?” Optimus volunteered. It didn’t seem right somehow, but his upper linguistic cortex was in the middle of rebooting and he wasn’t sure a further attempt to articulate the sheer levels of mindblowing ecstasy would come back in the right language, let alone communicate exactly what he wanted to say.

Ratchet just moaned. The sound dove straight into Optimus’ base coding and frolicked around his guttermost circuits, doing exciting things to his neural net.

“Are you well?” he asked once the reboot had signed off. It was at least partly to distract himself from from the electrical activity gathering in his pelvic girdle, he would admit, though there was some concern for the lack of friendly snark coming from Ratchet’s side of the berth.

“Muh,” said Ratchet. “Probably.”

Helpful. Optimus levered himself onto his side to inspect the damage for himself.

Ratchet gave him a look from dimmed, sated optics. His vents were spinning, gusting hot air from beneath his armour. His limbs were spread out across his side of the berth; his legs were bent, thighs wide apart as if Optimus were still between them. His spike was flagging, and his own drying transfluid was spattered over his chassis. 

“Old friend?” Optimus asked, quietly.

Ratchet did not answer, but his optics tracked over to Optimus. He stared for a moment, then widened them in a silent question.

Optimus reached out, dragged a finger through the transfluid slowly tracking down Ratchet’s ventral plating. Ratchet watched, his expression growing slowly more interested. Optimus cupped his waist, then swept his servo down his side, to the junction of his pelvic frame and thigh.

Ratchet lifted his hips into the touch. “Primus,” he said. “Haven’t you had enough of me already?”

Optimus couldn’t help smiling. “Not yet, old friend.”


End file.
